Left to right Angela Wolf, Lance Roberts, and Brenda Dunn, carrying Lance's little sister, walk down the hall at the Texas convention. Angela is showing Lance how to hold and use his cane.

From the Editor:
The annual convention of the NFB of Texas took place the fourth weekend of October.
One of the speakers was Dr. Ruby Ryles, a longtime Federationist, the mother
of a blind son, a distinguished researcher and writer on the importance of Braille
literacy, and now assistant professor of visual impairment in the College of
Education at Louisiana Tech University.

In the November
issue two other distinguished university professors discussed the crisis in
the education of blind children, and the mother of a blind middle-school student
described her family's struggle to force a school system to provide an appropriate
education to their son. In her convention speech Dr. Ryles told the Texans the
same heart-breaking and infuriating story from yet another perspective. Here
it is:

The humorous Yogi-isms of the legendary Yankees catcher Yogi Berra have become
a part of our American culture. Are you old enough to remember these? Yogi's
observations on a Steve McQueen movie: "He must've made that before he died";
Yogi's answer to a friend who asked what time it was: "You mean now?"; his directions
to a lost traveler: "When you see a fork in the road, take it"; and Yogi's answer
to his wife's questions about his preference of burial sites: "Surprise me"--all
make Yogi Berra's simple wisdom uniquely his own. But last Friday, outside an
old school building in a rural Louisiana town, one Yogi-ism was driven home
with a clarity uncharacteristic of the great Pinstriper.

Damen Roberts is an imposing
man--over six feet, four inches tall and built like a bear or a wrestler. If
you ever ride in his pickup truck, you'll need a stepladder to get to your seat
on the passenger side. Somehow I wasn't surprised when he told me how he supports
his family. He is a tugboat pilot, and it fits him to a T. Damen and his high
school sweetheart Dee are the loving parents of a young son and an infant daughter.
Four and a half years ago, when their son Lance was born blind, Damen and Dee
Roberts knew nothing of the reality of blindness. They had never met normal,
active blind adults, teenagers, or children. When Lance was born blind, like
other residents of their small Louisiana town the Roberts knew nothing of the
normalcy of blindness and especially did not know the potential for their son
to lead a normal life.

Damen and Dee grew up in
Louisiana. From the time Lance was diagnosed as blind, they made certain that
school administrators and special education service providers knew that their
son would be coming to school where Damen and Dee had gone to school. The Robertses
trusted their hometown school administrators and teachers because, after all,
small-town folks take care of one another. And hadn't teachers, school administrators,
and the superintendent (who, by the way, had been Damen and Dee's high school
principal), all known for several years that Lance was coming and would unquestionably
need Braille and cane travel instruction? Yep, things would be fine for Lance
because the parish school system had plenty of time to get ready for him.

But qualified teachers
for blind children are nearly as scarce as igloos around northern Louisiana--as
they probably are in Texas and other areas of the country. In fact, did you
realize that more than 5,000 teachers of blind children are needed nationwide?
And didn't I hear on CNN that mobility instructors are on the endangered species
list? Okay, maybe that hasn't happened yet, but I do know that in all fifty
states there are fewer than three dozen university degree programs for teachers
of blind children and fewer than two dozen O&M degree programs--in the entire
United States.

Wow! Little Lance Roberts
was born under a lucky star, because just sixty-four miles from his parish superintendent's
office is an internationally known training center for blind adults with resources
and programs that other small-town school superintendents could only dream about.
And if the proximity of the Louisiana Center for the Blind to the superintendent's
office weren't in itself a sure sign of a charmed life ahead of little Lance,
then a short three-block walk west of the Center was a dream-come-true for any
dedicated, child-centered school leader. At only sixty-four miles from his office
Lance's future school superintendent had at his fingertips all the training,
the workshops, the seminars--even the educational degrees with state and national
certifications in blindness that the Parish school faculty could ever want or
need to teach Lance.

Remember how few university-training
programs for teachers of blind children there are in the United States? And
remember that there are even fewer university training programs for O&M
degrees? Well in addition to a progressive, prestigious international training
center for the blind at his doorstep--relatively speaking--Lance's superintendent
would have easy access to, not just one, but two of those rare university-training
programs for teachers of blind children and O&M instructors.

Imagine. In lovely northern
Louisiana, Louisiana Tech University sat poised and ready with the Louisiana
Center for the Blind to offer world-class training to the small-town school
system--and sometimes even financial assistance. And if no one in the school
system wanted a degree in teaching blind students or O&M, then the superintendent
or special ed director could encourage a teacher to take Louisiana Tech's series
of courses that leads to state or national certifications in blindness. Or the
teacher's aid could make that sixty-four mile drive west on Interstate 20 to
take a Braille course and other blindness courses so she could work with Lance
more effectively. Or Louisiana Tech would even send a professor to the small
town to teach courses or workshops or seminars or simply to help Lance's preschool
get ready for him.

Oh the possibilities--just
sixty-four miles from the superintendent's office. Yes, indeed. Lance Roberts
is a lucky little guy, don't you think? But when Lance entered preschool last
month, no one in the parish had ever made the relatively short drive to some
of the best blindness training in the United States. The special education director
had even refused the university professor's repeated offers to provide district-wide
or individual trainings to faculty and staff in the parish--all at no cost to
the district.

I have been in the field
of work with the blind since the late seventies and have participated in many
IEPs over the years, including those for my own blind son. Since the early nineties
I have gradually done less and less teaching of blind children as I have become
more involved in developing programs and teaching at the university level. But
the common thread among many of the IEP meetings I used to attend–particularly
the litigious ones–surfaced when the discussion turned to the child's needs.
Amazingly, blind children at the center of an IEP always seem to need, and need
only, whatever services the school district just happens to have.

I've been at the university
level for about twelve years now, and my own blind son is thirty, so it has
been a few years since I attended an IEP meeting as a parent, a teacher, or
even an advocate. But last Friday in a small Louisiana town, in the truest fashion
of Yogi-isms, it was "déja vu all over again."

Not one but two O&M
instructors drove-in separate state cars, I might add--from Baton Rouge (a distance
of 209 miles to the Roberts' hometown) to support the superintendent as he insisted
that Lance Roberts would not be allowed to use his cane in school. Instead Lance
must use a pre-cane in the form of a walker made of PVC pipes.

After all, said the O&M
instructors from the residential school for the blind, Lance was not safe with
a cane and would endanger himself and other children; and then the school, the
superintendent, the town, the teachers, and the O&M instructor himself--everyone
remotely connected with Lance, it seems--would be liable and would be sued for
a vast amount of cash.

Mom and Dad Roberts recognized
that the scare tactics of the O&M instructor were simply an excuse for poor
service, inferior instruction, and most of all low expectations. But, as is
so often the case, the familiar ploy of teaching fear worked. The superintendent
declared to the thirteen people sitting at the table that the O&M instructors
from the school for the blind would be his experts, regardless of the presence
of national expertise just sixty-four miles from the IEP meeting.

Several times during the
stress-filled meeting, the superintendent and his so-called experts alluded
to Lance's attending the state residential school for the blind, which was home
base for the two O&M instructors. This option was clearly inappropriate
for Lance and totally unacceptable to his parents. For nearly three hours a
Louisiana tugboat pilot and his wife weathered yet another Louisiana storm,
this time inland and in the form of a contentious IEP meeting. Among the statements
(many of which were legally questionable at best) that were made to the incredulous,
beleaguered parents was one statement for the books. In a heated exchange the
superintendent clearly delineated his position and spoke for the parish education
system--in reference to the absence of qualified personnel to teach Lance, he
curtly replied to Lance's mother, "It's not my problem."

It's not my problem. You
think that might make a good campaign slogan for the next school board election
in the parish? Or maybe a national response to No Child Left Behind from educational
leaders like this one?

I said earlier that no
one in the parish is trained in blindness. That's not true. Dee Roberts is taking
a Braille course through Louisiana Tech University, and a little birdie tells
me that she has one of the best grades in the class. She has spent hours in
Ruston talking with Federationists who direct and teach the programs at Louisiana
Tech University and the Louisiana Center for the Blind. Last Tuesday night after
class, she sat on the curb under a streetlight with a teacher of blind children
who graduated from Louisiana Tech's master's degree program in teaching blind
students. They were deeply engrossed in a discussion of blindness, services,
and IEPs when I waved goodnight to them. I assure you Lance's mom learned more
on that curb Tuesday night than the declared experts for Lance's school district
will ever know about blindness.

Dee took home a copy of
Future Reflections (the National Federation of the Blind's magazine
for parents of blind children). She has been so eager to learn about blindness
that I was puzzled when I asked her after class one night if she had read the
literature on blindness I had given her, and she answered, no. But she was exonerated
when Damen called my office. He was many miles from his hometown. He called
from his tugboat off the shores of Houston. Seems he had taken Dee's copy of
Future Reflections to read to get ready for last Friday's IEP. He had
read it several times, he said, and had a couple of questions--he even quoted
from it.
Damen and Dee Roberts are dedicated, loving parents who will do almost anything
to ensure that Lance has the chance to live a normal, full life. They are learning
from the real experts. They are meeting skilled, competent blind adults. Federationist
Dr. Edward Bell, director of the Professional Development and Research Institute
on Blindness and coordinator of Louisiana Tech's O&M program, was the first
blind man either parent had met. Along with her courses from Louisiana Tech,
Dee is getting mobility lessons from NOMC-certified Roland Allen at the Louisiana
Center for the Blind. And the tugboat pilot? Since last Friday he's been fitted
for a long white cane so he can practice traveling under sleepshades.

Even though the Robertses
will have to weather many more storms created by the education system, I'm not
too worried about them. They are learning--and fast--not from self-styled experts,
but the real deal--the National Federation of the Blind.

Damen Roberts looks down proudly at his son just after Lance
has completed his first independent trip down a flight of steps. Lance is squealing
with delight.

To their parish school
system the Robertses now offer a last Yogi-ism, "It ain't over till it's over."
And the Robertses are just getting started with the National Federation of the
Blind. Oh, and in case you don't know, where do you think the Roberts family
packed up and went this weekend? That's right. They'll be here through tomorrow's
session, so when you see them, teach them what a Federation greeting is.

If you are interested in helping us change things for all the Lances, come join
us at Louisiana Tech. If you were a part of the gathering yesterday at noon
that cheered Lance as he used his cane to walk independently down several steps
for the first time in his life, you know the excitement of watching a little
life take off. Come join us. Until you experience it yourself, it is impossible
to describe the rush you get when your first-grade Braille student giggles wildly
at his Frog and Toad storybook or begs to read The King, the Mouse and the
Cheese book to you for the sixth time this week. Come join us. Are you
like Emily, one of the current students in the Louisiana Tech TBS program, when
I asked her why she was in the program? She said she wanted to make a difference.
Do you? Come join us. If you want a degree in teaching blind children or orientation
and mobility from the only university programs in the United States based on
Federation philosophy, please talk to us.

Four of our current teachers
in training are here and will also be happy to talk with you about the programs.
You can call me, Dr. Ruby Ryles, or Dr. Edward Bell at (318) 257-4554. Or if
you forget that number, just call the Louisiana Center for the Blind at (800)
234-4166, and Zena Pearcy will get you in touch with us.

Stay active in the National
Federation of the Blind. Together we are making a difference for tomorrow's
blind kids.

************

The
Forgotten Gift!

Matching
gift programs are one of the most overlooked methods of giving offered by many
corporations, banks, and other businesses. In order to encourage their employees
to support community or national nonprofit organizations, employers often match
individual gifts to charitable organizations by making a gift of their own that
doubles or triples the amount of the employee's contribution. In many cases
charitable contributions from retired employees are also eligible for matching
gifts.

To determine
whether your employer has a matching gift program, contact the human resources
or personnel department for eligibility guidelines and an application form.
Once you have completed the form, send it to the National Federation of the
Blind, 1800 Johnson Street, Baltimore, Maryland 21230, and we will do the rest.